


Anything For You

by porcelain_princess



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, Light Sadism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelain_princess/pseuds/porcelain_princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened that day at PMQ's. A Camerborne fanfic inspired by a conversation with a friend on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> If you're under 18 or easily offended, don't read this. Seriously.. there are plenty of things on here that won't mentally scar you. This just might. I apologise.

The House of Commons was full. It was a Wednesday morning, time for Prime Minister’s Questions. The last few MPs were taking their seats, and John Bercow had just walked in.

Taking advantage of the last few moments before John’s cry of “ORDER!” would silence the chamber, George Osborne leaned to his right. “Dave,” he whispered. “I enjoyed our little meeting last night, didn’t you?”

His voice was low enough for the microphones not to pick it up and he made sure not to move his lips, so that no one could have any chance of figuring out what he was really talking about.

“Ssshhh,” hissed David Cameron, a flash of anger in his ice blue eyes. “You already seem to have forgotten our parting words!”

A smirk washed across George’s face as he remembered how David had told him: “You can’t mention this outside of this room, do you understand?”

“Yes Sir,” George had answered with the taste of the Prime Minister lingering in his mouth. “I understand.”

“Good. Because if you risk us getting caught.. people knowing that we’re.. you know..”

“Slave and Master? Or are you uncomfortable referring to me as your slave without a whip in your hand?”

David’s voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper. “George, I don’t think you’re taking me seriously. If you so much as hint at outing us in public, you’ll find out all about discomfort. I. Will. Punish. You.”

George now found the crotch of his smart trousers a little tighter than before just thinking of the growling tone in his dom’s voice as he’d said those last four words. And David, of course, hadn’t taken into account the fact that his Chancellor and sub, being a masochist, wasn’t deterred by the threat of punishment. In fact he found the idea incredibly arousing, which is what had led him to taunt David now, during Prime Minister’s questions.

“Oh no, I haven’t forgotten,” he said with a giggle, no other way to describe it, it was a giggle.

David pretended to ignore George, but could barely suppress a smirk of his own as he figured out exactly how he was going to punish him.

Prime Minister’s Questions came and went as usual, with a few snide remarks from Ed Miliband and Ed Balls which David had countered with the witty comebacks that he prided himself on, some loaded questions from Labour MPs and some compliments disguised as questions from the Tory backbenchers. David and George had always found PMQ’s somewhat boring, and today was no different. _Next week will be, though.._ thought David, no longer able to suppress the smile that crept across his face.

-

The next six days were among the longest of David’s life. In fact, the last time he remembered being this nervous and excited at the same time was the week of the General Election when he became Prime Minister. This was even more of an emotional rollercoaster, with his brain telling him that he must have gone insane, that he was going to get them caught, but his dick twitching at the mere thought of what he had planned, trying to convince his brain that no-one would figure it out, and even those with suspicions would dismiss them as ludicrous.

Sometimes, alone in his office, David would put his head in his hands, grasping at his thick dark hair and wondering how his life had even come to this. Other times he’d get so aroused thinking of what was to come that he’d send for Sam, and take her passionately right there on his desk, or the floor of his office.

It had been a long time since the Prime Minister’s sexual appetite had been quite so insatiable, and that fact had not escaped his wife. As he pushed her against the wall and shoved a hand roughly between her legs for the second time that day, she suppressed her excitement and stepped out from between her husband and the magnolia coloured wall of his office, before sitting on his desk, one leg crossed over the other.

“Dave.. what is going on?” she asked, looking genuinely bemused.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, his voice still deep and husky with arousal. “I’m married to a stunning woman. Am I not allowed to want to fuck her?”

Sam bit her lip then smiled, her distinctive, dazzling white smile. “Of course, baby. And I love it, you know I do. But we also both know that we’ve fucked more in the past week than we had in months! Something’s gotten into you.. or you’ve gotten into someone!”

David stared at Sam, open mouthed, unsure of what to say.

“What I’m trying to say is-“ continued Sam, “does this have something to do with your chancellor?”

“George? I- what?! I- Sam.. how..” spluttered David.

Samantha watched her husband flounder for a moment, enjoying the look of panic in his bright blue eyes, before smiling knowingly at him. “How did I know? Well, for a start, in the 3 years you’ve been in office, you’ve never needed privacy to prepare for PMQs. But in the past six months, you send the kids away every Tuesday night then you two lock yourselves away in the meeting room for hours! That peaked my suspicions, but a few weeks ago you came out wearing each other’s ties. That’s when I knew.”

David mentally kicked himself for making such a stupid mistake.

“So the week after that, after the tie thing, I.. well, I followed you. I listened outside the door. I heard everything, Dave. How he calls you Master and Sir. I heard whips and what I assume were handcuffs, I heard the way you talked to him as you.. well.. _you know_.”

David released the breath he’d been holding the whole time she had been speaking. “Shit, Sam, you were there the whole time?!”

“Not the _whole_ time..” she answered in hushed tones. “I left. Went upstairs.. partly so that you wouldn’t catch me eavesdropping, but mainly to.. to clean myself up.”

David’s expression changed from shock to confusion and back again. “Sammy, you’re not saying what I think you are?!”

She looked at her lap, her long dark hair falling forward to partially cover her face, and nodded. David took a sharp intake of breath, feeling himself growing hard, straining against his trousers as the mental image filled his brain: Sam, slumped on the floor against the door of the meeting room, legs spread, her fingers deep inside her while her palm pushed against her clit, pleasuring herself to the sounds of his kinky sex session with his friend, his neighbour, his Chancellor. Her other hand muffling her own moans so she could better hear theirs.. David couldn’t believe it.

“You’re not pissed off?!”

Sam’s eyes darkened. “Of course I’m pissed off, you daft bastard. Pissed off this you never thought to tell me you were into BDSM – or men, for that matter! Very pissed off that you never asked me to join in.. but pissed off about you screwing Gideon and making him your bitch? Nah.”

“What the- _why not?!_ ” cried David. It sounded stupid once he’d said it, but he still thought it a reasonable question.

“Well.. I’ve always had a thing for guys fucking, you know that. I always thought it would be Nick if you went that way though, people even talk about you two having chemistry on the Internet, Nancy bangs on about it because the kids at school tell her. It’s called shipping I think.. they call you two Clameron. It’s a portmanteau of your last names.”

David tutted and shook his head. “That’s really stupid,” was his only response.

“I’m not so sure.. I always kinda liked the idea,” giggled Sam. “But now I know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into, I’m glad it’s Gideon. I’ve never liked him much, as you know. So hearing you do those things to him - even though I know he likes it – it gives me some kind of gratification I guess.”

“Gratification?” he smirked.

“It gets me off,” she purred, sliding off the desk and approaching him.

He pulled her into a deep kiss before whispering in her ear, “that’s because you’re evil.. and I love you for it.”

Sam laughed softly. “Me, evil? I’m not the one putting nipple clamps on people and whipping their arse fifty shades of red!”

“No, but you are the one getting off to it just because you don’t like the poor bastard,” he teased.

They kissed again, and she moved to suckle gently on the lobe of his ear. “You know, you still haven’t told me what’s going on,” she murmured softly. “You and George have been fucking for months, but something’s sent your sex drive through the roof in the past week. I don’t suppose you want to share it with me?”

David let go of Sam and sat down on the sofa in his office, gesturing to his wife to sit next to him. She did so, and he called a housekeeper to the office.

“Angela, will you fetch a cup of tea each for Samantha and I?” he asked the curvy red-haired housekeeper who came in.

“Yes, Mr. Cameron, Sir, right away,” she smiled, and turned to leave.

“Angela?” called Samantha, and the woman turned back again. “Get my husband tea if he wishes, but make mine a gin and tonic, sweetie. God knows I need it right now.”

A slight smile appeared on the housekeeper’s face. “Yes, Mrs. Cameron, of course,” she chirped, and disappeared.

David looked at Sam, who shrugged her shoulders. “If I don’t need alcohol now, I have a feeling I definitely will after whatever you’re about to tell me.”

“I think you could be right,” he said, before falling silent as the door opened. It was Angela with their drinks. They thanked her and she left, closing the door behind her, leaving them alone. David placed his cup of tea on the table and turned to Sam. He took his hand in hers, took a deep breath and started talking.

After David had finished detailing his plans to Sam, she sat, wide-eyed with disbelief. Suddenly she shook her head in a way that reminded David of a wet dog and made him laugh, only to have the smile wiped off his face a millisecond later when she slapped him in the head.

“Wha-“ he began to protest, before admitting: “I deserved that.”

“David William Donald Cameron, you deserve more than that, you deserve my foot up your arse! Have you lost your mind?!” shrieked Samantha. David shushed her, aware that although the kids were at nursery and school, there were various staff around who could hear her.

She lowered the volume, but not the shrillness, of her voice. “You have. _You have lost your motherfucking mind,_ ” she hissed. David nodded, not even bothering to mention her use of the ‘MF-word,’ the latest addition to her vocabulary courtesy of the rap albums she’d collected.

“Don’t just nod at me, David! You must be kidding- you are, aren’t you? You’re joking. You had me going but you’re just.. oh God, you’re not, are you?”

“Sam, Sam, baby,” he soothed. “You’re getting hysterical.”

“Are you bloody surprised?!” she yelped. “You expect me to be calm after that? After finding out that my husband, the PRIME MINISTER, basically wants to humiliate his submissive fuck buddy – who also happens to be the fucking Chancellor of the United Kingdom – on national television?!”

“Sammy, please calm down. No one will know. It’s not like I’m going to bend him over the Speaker’s desk and spank him.”

“I suppose that’s what will be coming next,” sighed Sam. “Look, you can do what you like, but are you 100 percent sure no one will realise?”

“Wait here,” David instructed his wife. She nodded while taking a large sip of her drink. When he came back in, he had a small brown paper bag in his hand, which he handed to her.

“Is this.. it?” she asked gingerly. He nodded and stroked her hair, and she opened the bag.

Inside she found a box containing two things. The first she knew must be the toy.. the anal plug.. she tried to find a nice way to think of it, but she couldn’t. It was large for what it was, but small enough to fit in her hand. She looked at it, then placed it back in the box and picked up the other thing. A little remote control. She pressed what she assumed was the power button and the box started moving in her lap. She gasped as the toy vibrated, or thrusted, or both, she couldn’t quite tell, so viciously that the box moved with it. “David! That thing is super loud!” she cried out.

“Only because it’s hitting the box, silly. Look,” he smiled, taking it in his hand and holding it firmly. She could see it was still moving, but could hear nothing more than a faint hum, which she acknowledged would definitely not be heard in the hubbub of Prime Minister’s Questions.

David’s mind was racing. Less than 4 years ago, he was accepting the keys to this very house, and promising the Queen that he would do everything he could for her country. Now he was sitting in his office with a vibrating butt plug in his hand, attempting to convince his wife that it would be safe to have it up his Chancellor’s ass in the House of Commons. He burst out laughing at the stupidity of the situation, and Sam took another gulp of her drink while wondering what she did wrong in a past life.

-

The next day was Tuesday, the day before PMQs.. the day George usually came over. For some reason unknown to him, David felt butterflies in his stomach as the kids departed to their uncle’s house and he realised it was almost time for his weekly “meeting” with George. Perhaps it was the thrill of Sam now knowing, especially after she’d reassured him with wild, primal sex that she definitely did not mind, or perhaps it was the excitement of knowing he had to punish him. Either way, when the doorbell rang, and David heard security letting the Chancellor in, he couldn’t help but feel like a kid on Christmas morning.

David walked to the meeting room and found George already there. He closed the door and turned the lock, smiling to himself. “So,” he said, “you found it funny to allude to our private affairs in the middle of the House of Commons?” before turning to face his sub.

George was already kneeling on the floor. “I apologise, Master. I was excited by your threat of a punishment, I didn’t mean to anger you. I mean I did, but.. I..”

“Shut up,” snarled David. George felt his erection start to throb inside his black silk boxers. He loved that tone of voice, it was all but a promise of rough, sadistic sex.

“I said I’d punish you if you defied me, and you went ahead and did it. I’m starting to see that what I say in this room bears no weight with you outside, and I want you to remember that you don’t stop being my sub when you leave here. I want you to know that you can’t take the piss out of me in the Commons then expect me to forget it. I’m not two separate people, you know, Master David and Prime Minister Dave. No, the Prime Minister is your Master, and I think I know how to get that idea into your head,” he growled, George all the while gazing at him from the floor.

“How, Master?” he asked, trying to hide his excitement.

“I’ll tell you that tomorrow, I want you here before we go to PMQs, with a little time to spare,” instructed David. “For now, I want you to take off your clothes.”

George obliged, hastily stripping until he stood naked in front of his dom. 

The PM opened his briefcase, revealing several whips, a pair of nipple clamps, a length of rope and the box containing the anal plug – not the remote control though, that was to be a surprise, all resting on some small towels and a pink blindfold. His slave immediately noticed the box, as it was something they’d never used before. “If I may ask, Sir, what is in here?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Open it,” shrugged David.

George did as he was told and gasped audibly.

“Don’t act all shocked,” smirked David. “You take my dick up there, and we’ve all heard about your escapades with Natalie.”

George flushed at the reference to his ex-dom, an escort named Natalie, who often used these plugs on him, as well as dildos and strap-ons. It wasn’t the fact that David knew that bothered him, but that every time it was mentioned served as a reminder that the escort had written a book, and leaked their stories on the Internet.

“I know, I just never thought of using toys with you,” he admitted.

“Me neither, not until very recently. Let’s just say you inspired me,” said David with a smile reminiscent of the villain in every movie George had ever seen.

George soon forgot his curiosity when he felt a whip crack across his right buttock. He inhaled sharply with the pain, but with the next stroke, also raised his hips towards David in a silent plea for more. “I want you to tell me you’re mine,” growled David. “And that you won’t defy me again.”

“I’m s-sorry Master, I won’t.. won’t defy you a-again.. I’m yours. I belong to you,” George stammered, pain and arousal making his voice shakier with each word as David continued leaving red whip marks across his pale white ass.

“Good,” said David, unbuckling his belt. “Now crawl across here and suck my dick.”

George obeyed immediately, turning and crawling towards David, before taking his manhood in his hand and licking the tip. He dipped his tongue into the slit, making David moan before grabbing his sub’s silky black hair and forcing his entire, very impressive, length into his mouth. George, who had not been expecting it, spluttered and gagged on David’s cock before regaining his composure and allowing the Prime Minister to fuck his mouth. After a few minutes, George felt David’s cock tense inside his mouth just as the older man cried out that he was about to cum. Seconds later he did, four waves of his thick, salty essence spurted into the back of the Chancellor’s throat, which he swallowed without hesitation. “Fuck, David.. I mean Master.. that was hot. Please allow me to cum,” he begged.

“Get back on all fours,” David instructed. George looked questioningly at him. “Back on all fours before I hogtie you,” he breathed, and George did as he was told. A hard slap rang across his ass, which was already sore from the whipping it received earlier, and he cried out, unsure even himself whether he was reacting to pleasure or pain. The two always had gone hand in hand for George.

“That was for hesitating to obey me without good reason, do you understand?” asked David sternly.

“Yes, Master,” replied George in a whimpering voice, his erection throbbing beneath him, desperate to climax.

“Good. Now I’m going to lube up this,” said David, now in front of George, showing him the shiny black latex anal plug, “and I’m going to put it in you. I’ll make sure you cum after, don’t worry. But I want to see how you find this. Okay?”

“Okay, Sir,” agreed George. He’d used plugs and beads before and found them quite pleasurable, and was hoping it would be enough to get him off. He was right. David applied lube generously to both George’s hole and the anal plug, and after loosening him up with his fingers, inserted the toy. Once it was inside him, David reached around and stroked George’s engorged cock with his hand. George bucked his hips forward as if to fuck David’s hand, and David picked up the pace, tightening his hand and frantically masturbating the younger man until he let out a low, guttural cry and covered the Prime Minister’s hand – and some of his carpet – in his cum. George collapsed onto the floor, and David took the opportunity to pull a small towel from his briefcase and wipe his hands before removing what he could from the carpet.

“George?” he purred in the Chancellor’s ear.

“Yes, Master?”

“When you can, I want you to get up and walk around a little.. with the toy in. I just want to see if you can. I don’t want you to suddenly find yourself unable to walk tomorrow.”

George agreed, then after a minute or two he got to his feet and walked the length of the room. “I’ve done this before. But wait.. what did you mean about tomorrow? You’re going to do this to me tomorrow too?” He was surprised to hear that his dom had plans for him the next day, of course, they’d only ever carried out these sessions on a Tuesday, so they could pretend they were preparing for..

“PMQs!” cried George. “We have Prime Minister’s Questions tomorrow!”

“What did I tell you?” said David, that supervillian smile back on his face. “I’ll teach you that you’re still mine outside of this room.. teach you not to defy me in public.”

George’s jaw dropped as he realised what exactly David was implying.

“David, you can’t..”

“Oh but I can. Now take it out and let’s get you dressed and home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

-

The next morning, George arrived at Number 10 with his heart beating double time. David directed him to the meeting room, where there was none of the sensuality of the night before, he simply instructed his sub to drop his trousers and pants and bend over the table, which George obligingly did. David once again lubed the Chancellor’s ass and the sex toy before inserting it.”

“Does that feel okay?” he asked.

George felt his face flush slightly. “It.. it actually feels really good, Sir,” he breathed.

David smiled, and slapped George’s butt. “Maybe this will teach you not to take the piss out of me,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “But just in case it doesn’t.. get up and turn around.”

George straightened himself up, pulled up his pants and trousers and turned to face David, who opened his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. “What are you doing?” asked George, cursing his voice for giving away his excitement and fear.

David did not respond. He opened George’s shirt so that his chest was exposed, and reached into his own pocket, pulling out a set of nipple clamps. They were smaller than the ones the pair usually used, and lacked the extra chain that attached to a ring around the sub’s cock, these were a simple pair with a very fine chain. “They’re smaller so they won’t be visible under your jacket,” explained David as he tightened the right one until he was certain that it was on the border between pain and pleasure. “Don’t want anyone knowing, do we?” he smirked as he tightened the other, before refastening George’s shirt, tie and jacket. “Good. Undetectable. Now come, they’re expecting us to leave together but not late. Are you okay with this?”

George assured David that he was just fine, and they left.

-

In the car on the way to the HoC, David simultaneously cursed himself for having been so stupid and mentally high-fived himself for having the balls to pull something like this off. When they got there, he couldn’t help but stare at George, trying to figure out if he was walking funny, or if the nipple clamps were visible, before turning away when he realised that his staring would only serve to make things more obvious.

They were met on their way into the chamber by Nick Clegg, who attempted to make small talk with them. David found himself much too preoccupied, and Clegg soon gave up as they all walked in and took their seats.

PMQs began the way it always did, with John Bercow bellowing “ORDER”, a summary of what had been going on over the past week, and some questions. David found himself almost forgetting about the state of his Chancellor next to him, until he absent-mindedly reached into his pocket and felt the remote control. Ed Miliband stood and asked a question, and as David stood to answer it, he pressed the button.

George had gotten used to the presence of the plug inside him, and was concentrating on what David was saying, when suddenly he felt it begin to thrust softly but rapidly inside him. The unexpected stimulation was almost too much to bear, and he clamped his teeth together and grabbed a handful of his shirt to try to maintain his self-control.

Unfortunately for the Chancellor, as he grabbed at his shirt, it brushed against his clamped nipples, sending electric shocks through his body. His nipples throbbed and David seemed to have forgotten to turn off the anal plug, the one George didn’t even know could turn _on_ , and it continued fucking him as he sat, unable to react or do anything about it. He found himself staring at random members of the Labour party, wondering if they knew what was happening, if they could detect his boner or if he was doing a good enough job of hiding it, or if they could just see it all over his face. The toy inside him started vibrating, and thrusting harder, and George felt himself break into a sweat.

The Prime Minister, content with how he had answered the leader of the opposition, sat down and took a glance at George. He was almost white, even paler than usual, and looked positively tormented. Satisfied, David reached into his pocket and turned off the plug. George took a deep breath.

“You OK?” David whispered, aware that it would be difficult to employ their safe word in such an environment.

George nodded discreetly.

When they left, the two men walked into the men’s bathroom and bundled into a cubicle together. “You bastard,” hissed George as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. “You never told me it could fuck me!”

“Didn’t I?” asked David in a mock-innocent voice, a wry smile creeping across his face. “It must have slipped my mind. Now bend over and let’s get the thing out of you.”

George was happy to oblige, and although it was more of an effort than the night before to remove, it did slide out relatively easily. George moaned out loud with pleasure and relief when it was removed, and David instinctively clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Shh!” he hissed, and George nodded before standing up and redressing his bottom half.

David then pushed him against the cubicle wall and opened his jacket. George removed his tie and helped David unbutton his shirt, revealing the nipple clamps and two swollen, sore nipples. David slowly removed the clamps, then took each nipple into his mouth to soothe it, with one hand over George’s mouth, just in case.

After some of the redness had subsided, the Prime Minister helped his sub get dressed again, and crouched down to peek under the door of the cubicle.

“No-one’s here,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”

-

When David got home, Samantha was sitting on the sofa in the main living room, her laptop sitting on her crossed legs.

“You did it, didn’t you?” she laughed in disbelief. “You’re crazy! You really did it.”

He shrugged, the supervillian smile making a comeback. “It’s a secret,” he teased.

“No, Dave,” she laughed, turning the laptop screen towards him. “It’s all over Twitter.”

“What?!” he cried. “People know?”

“Not exactly. Look.”

David sat down and took the laptop from Sam. George’s name was trending on Twitter, with everyone asking themselves what was up with him in PMQs. Some suggested he was hungover, while some insisted that he must have been on drugs. Cocaine was mentioned a fair few times, which made David laugh.

“At least they don’t know what was really going on,” he said, caressing his wife’s hand.

“Give me a sec,” he said, before leaving the room and climbing the stairs to their bedroom. He pulled out the briefcase he kept his secret things in, using a wipe to clean the plug before returning it and it’s remote control to the small box. Then he reached into the other pocket and rummaged for the nipple clamps, untangling them and returning them too.

David locked the briefcase, put it away and left the room, smiling as he realised he’d finally found a way to liven up Prime Minister’s Questions.


End file.
